


Brother Mine

by GodOfWar



Series: My Big Bro, Serpent of Eden [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Blood, Chloe Decker trying to clobber somebody to death with cheap bedside decoration, Crowley is a Good Bro, Crowley was Raphael before he fell, F/M, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Gets a Hug, M/M, No beta - we saunter vaguely downwards, Other, Post-Devil Face Reveal to Chloe Decker, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Violence, Whump, Wing Injury, Wings, Wings as Perfect Replacement for Blanket, because people are people, he rightfully deserved all along, i should have writen it the moment it started forming in my head - regrets, like celestial beings should, lucifer is a mess, mentions of - Freeform, with a side of being asshat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23451598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodOfWar/pseuds/GodOfWar
Summary: It wasn't Raphael.But it also couldn't be anybody else.Lucifer is a complete mess and I had feelings about this, so here is a story where he gets something more then 'tough luck, pardner' to carry him over.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Crowley (Good Omens) & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Series: My Big Bro, Serpent of Eden [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174100
Comments: 27
Kudos: 786





	Brother Mine

The pain hit only once his trembling knees refused to carry him any longer and hit the polished wood of the penthouse floor. It shouldn't hurt this much. Detective was…Lucifer was sure that wherever she was the distance between them was still lesser then she wished it to be, but non the less enough that healing should not have been a problem. 

In theory.

It hurt to move. For whatever reason his wings refused to heal, still layered with few dozens of bullets now fussing into his flesh, sending flashes of hot-white agony behind his tightly squeezed eyelids. He gripped for his cellphone, patting the plastic for few moments before he realized he had no one to call. Miss Lopez would have probably know how to dig the flattened metal from under the skin and feathers but…there were enough victims of his selfishness for one day. Maze…Lucifer wasn't sure he could survive her fury or live with her snide remarks. However deserved they might be. And calling Linda would equal calling Maze, which crossed her of the list as the last likely ally. 

Lucifer swallowed the wave of nausea, pressed both of his hands still stained with Cain's blood together in the prayer and swaying on his knees whispered the name that slipped past his lips and made him stiffen in surprise. 

He didn't mean to…

For a second he hoped that it didn't work, that he hadn't been heard. He pitched forward, limbs heavy and uncoordinated, but instead of his chin hitting the piano bench an arm wound tightly around his chest, stopping him mid-motion. 

He didn't see Raphael for long, long time. And even if his brother would to condemn him and curse him and his name, he wanted to see him even this once more. Lucifer swallowed the bitter bile lodged in his throat and opened his eyes, vision swimming, cursing the wetness clinging to his lashes. 

It wasn't Raphael. 

But it also couldn't be anybody else.

He was looking into a pair of golden-yellow eyes, followed to the snake-shaped tattoo marking the side of handsome face framed by long messy hair pulled carelessly into a bun. He hid his face in the soft velvet of the black jacket, pressing deep in the welcoming half embrace. Large warm hand rested just under the joints of his abused wings sending warmth that spread quickly through his body, soothing some of the pain and chasing away the nausea. Hands moved and he followed helplessly, starved and needy and wanting, stopped by admonishing 'shush' and then nearly melting when he was picked up. His body swayed with the cadence of Crowley's steps, wings hung, suspended in the air above the ground by that strange power his older brother seemed to wield still, regardless of his falling. 

Lucifer was laid down on the covers of his bed, moved with light poking and prodding until his right wing was extended and quick nimble fingers found the first bullet. He closed his eyes as the first one clicked on the bottom of the bucket.

Lucifer sobbed. First quiet, his lips pressed in a hard lime to not let the sound escape and then, no longer caring, he whined in the pillows like a dog, fingers clenching on the messy covers. And it was not the pain that brought him this low but the burning, searing agony of all mistakes made that culminated into this moment. Uriel, Chloe, Cain…and now…

Raphael fell. His favorite brother fell, went to Hell and somehow Lucifer never noticed, never thought about those who followed him down, never tried to…never tried to fix this and…he was…

There was a sharp sting across his thigh making him loose the train of thought to disbelievingly stare over his shoulder.

"I've finished." And then, without preambule one sore wing was picked up and Crowley slid under it, gripped Lucifer's shoulders and settled him on top of his hard chest, wounding long arms around him. Lucifer's mind turned blank, his ear picking up the even if slightly too rapid thump-thump of the fallen angel's heart. There was a hand in his hair, lightly scratching the sensitive skin and drawing harder circles with the thumb, pressing into stiff muscles of his neck.

Crowley was running hot, far hotter then any human would, fire burning through him like a distant memory of what he once was. They've all kept so little of themselves once trapped into prisons of flesh and blood and most of it was kept hidden, glamoured little secrets that sometimes came crushing down. 

"My husband does that." Crowley's voice was clear and sad and Lucifer doesn't raise his head from where it rests, his thoughts scattering again like poorly made sand castle. "Just that," and he demonstrates by pressing his lips to the top of Lucifer's head, loosening the claws that gripped his insides since he saw Detec…Chloe run away from him in fear, "and this."

He is hugged tightly, anchored by a steady thump-thump under his ear and fingers curled around the skin of his side and neck. He realizes he is trembling, that his teeth are clicking against each other in disjointed sort of melody, but even when his vision is swimming he doesn't move away. He is held without expectation, without fear, without obligation. With no other desire then to provide comfort. He clings to the solid warmth like a man drowning, crushing his brother under his weight and leaving bruises when his fingers clench in predatory grip. There is a woosh and a moment later what light was there is suddenly squandered by the soft welcoming darkness of black feathers. It takes some maneuvering but in the end he is cocooned like a caterpillar, wrapped in pajamas bottoms and threadbare cotton shirt. The stench of blood fades, replaced with cinnamon and apples and a spare loose thought appears, flashing lazily across his mind that Crowley was probably baking before Lucifer called. The velvet jacket was gone, but not the shirt that hid underneath and despite the dark his eyes still see clearly the powdery white stain just under collar. It looks like three finger prints. Like somebody laid a hand on his chest, leaned in, braced against him. Lucifer raised his shaky hand and touched the stain, rubbing it off, feeling the flour cling to his cold fingertips. 

He lays in the soothing shadow and doesn't even startle when Crowley starts humming under his breath. Tears come, sliding down his cheek and tip of the nose and he watched them cling until they fell unheard into blackness. When the words come, they tumble down in scattered mess and went on searching. For forgiveness. For absolution. Maybe for oblivion if he can't get what he craves the most. Displacement of air stirs his sweaty hair as the wing raises. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, trying to reclaim the feeling, but stills when a pair of hands grasps his head, encouraging him up. 

Golden eyes bear into him, shining in sincerity even as Crowley struggles for words.

"I'm not good at…this…I'm…You are not a monster, little brother. No! Let me finish. You are not a monster, because if you are then so am I and I refuse to believe that someone as soft, as kind, as sweet as my husband would have let a monster live much less love it. We are…we are not evil…or bad. We can do bad things and make mistakes and stumble around a lot…it's not like anybody was there to teach us how to recognize it, yeah? The point is…the point is…we didn't get our apple to tell us right from wrong, we had to, you and I and the others-we had to fight for our own freedom and we've lost as much as we won and now we have to muddle around and learn on our own skin the good from the bad. But we are not…nobody is evil. That's human concept. They have been killing each other and hurting each other with no one to tell them to do so. We didn't come up with it. You didn't come up with this. They did. And they heard about you, about hell and thought 'yes, it's his fault' because, because it was easy. Because without the Devil and demons and a dark place they will be sent to if they are 'bad' there would be no one to blame and they would have to accept that they are the problem. You are not a monster, Lucifer…you are convenient scapegoat."

"Now I know why they insist on that stupid horns." He watched as Crowley's lip started twitching madly and finally let go, giggling hysterically, mindless of the tears wiped from his face by roughened fingers. "You've lied."

"I did not!" Came the indignant reply, but it had far to much warmth behind it to be anything but fake.

"Hmmm…you did. You are good at it. Proper little therapist, aren't you?"

"I just have a good one." Lucifer pondered the quiet tragedy of Angel of Healing needing a therapist with tightened throat. And to think of that if he didn't drag…"Chasing the rabbit, aren't we?"

"What?"

"I fell on my own merit. I regret that I was thrown away, I wished to come back, I apologized until I couldn't speak…but I don't regret the life I have now. I will always miss Silver City but if I had to do that all over again…I would. With or without you. I was miserable in Heaven, Mel. I was miserable in Hell, too, but it gave me what all the angels above could not and will not be able to until they learn to walk among humans. Choice. Big fan of those. So…you either go do your thing, spend time with people who love you as you are and walk, one step at the time or tuck your tail between legs and hide in Hell until you become the thing you fear the most. I've spend a lot of time with humans so I will tell you this- don't underestimate them. They can be worse then every single one of the demons in Hell but also much better then every angel of the host. They will come around. Give them some time, answer their questions and be patient with them and sooner then you think they will roll eyes at you when you are being scary and ask you to make pastries for their mother's birthday in the same breath they will scold you for leaving feathers on their carpet."

"What if she…they don't?"

"It will not be a failure on your part. I know that with so few victories every failure hits harder but you will have to promise me something, yes?"

"No carte blanche, brother dear, even for you."

"Mel…promise me that even if you fail you won't give up. I put my number in your phone. Anything happens, anything at all, you call. Promise me that you will try. I will come, if I can."

"Okay."

"Yes?"

"I promise I will try…on one condition. You will tell me why you stayed away. Deal?"

"Deal. I will have to go soon, Aziraphale should be home in an hour or so, try to take a nap, alright? I will stay until you fall asleep." They moved around, Lucifer now more or less lying flat on his stomach cuddling his pillow, Crowley's fingers sifting through his hair as he turned on his side. Lucifer didn't want him to go, with him the hallow pain was only vague imprint not that roaring beast trashing inside his ribcage. He considered asking him to stay. Clinging like a barnacle to the rock. Maybe following him all the way home like a stray cat only to stay at the entrance and refuse to come in. "I think we will be taking some time from England for a week or two. Say, do you have any library here?"

…

He finds Chloe Decker in the middle of packing a particularly ugly striped sweater into a large suitcase lying open on the bed. She pulls the gun on him and shoots before she is even fully turned, her hands are shaking and her eye widen in terror when her gun sprouts out soap bubbles not bullets. She chucks the empty barrel at his head and throws herself at the door. He clicks his fingers. Gun clatters on the floor. He ignores her frustrated scream and frantic thumps on the door when she realizes the doorknob disappeared. He sits down, letting his wings fan around him and looks idly at the knick-knacks scattered around him as she throws herself at the window. Finally she stands, teeth bared and a heavy figurine clasped in one hand, ready to clobber him to death.

"My name is Crowley. Anthony, if it's easier for you. Raphael if you feel uncharitable. I will say my piece, then I'm leaving, what you do with what I tell you is up to you. I just hate when people make decisions based on incomplete knowledge. You have free will, use it."

"Well, I am using it now, get the hell out of my house and tell him to stop sicking his sidekicks on me!"

"Too bad- hell's closed today. But first of all- he doesn't know I'm here and it will be better if he never finds out because he might be all grown up but he is still second youngest and it's our right as his older siblings to meddle. Second, as I mentioned, he is my baby brother, not my boss, and sidekick is such a bad word to call a loyal friend. Listen, I don't know you, you don't know me, all I know is that Lucifer was dying with eighty seven bullets I had to prey out of his wings and right now he is an epic mess of abandonment issues and self-hate and that it all ties to you." Crowley slapped few pages on the bedside table. "That's a list of people who are in the know. Normal people, like you. People who actually met us not an half drugged idiots who stumbled upon celestials and run about screaming of burning wheels with wings and fires of hell. You have a list of books that are somewhat truthful to what we actually are. I am living numbers for me, my husband who happened to be an Angel of the Easter Gate in Eden and my therapist from Edinburgh. You are detective, right? Sooner or later you will want to know the facts instead of stories. So there. Do what you will and…" Crowley opened his wings to take off, looking at the woman who was eyeing the papers with more curiosity then trepidation which he counted as a plus on the metaphorical board. "Try to remember that people you knew hadn't changed. You had."

Crowley appeared just outside the house, quiet and invisible he observed as Chloe Decker put away the figurine and grabbed the pair of jeans, folding them half-way. They fell on the bed a second later, replaced in her hands with wad of paper she studied with a frown. She spread the pages out, smoothed the edges she crumpled with too hard grip. Tugged out a phone from her pocket and turned it on.

He nodded to himself.

There was a lot that could be said about Lucifer, but one could never accuse him of not having good taste in women. With that thought he headed to the little cottage, just stone throw away from the churning chilly sea on the coast of Britain. 

"Good walk, darling?" Crowley bent down to kiss Aziraphale's cheek as his husband inspected the growing dough under checkered towel. He made his jacket disappear into the depth of his wardrobe and nudged the angel away, poking around the pans and jars and clicking the oven on.

"Eventful. Make us some coffee and I will tell you all about it."

**Author's Note:**

> So...noticing how much people seem to like Lucifer/Good Omens crossovers...My Tumblr is **gogogoeties** and right here right now I'm saying that you will not only not bother me but I'm asking you - pretty please - give something to write about. I want to take both of those fandoms and smash them together to make them kiss already but I'm out of ideas so...prompt me?


End file.
